


You Never Know

by hanakoanime



Series: Fills for Challenges and Prompts [2]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanakoanime/pseuds/hanakoanime
Summary: He doesn't like to think about being alone.





	You Never Know

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** You Never Know  
>  **Fandom:** BIGBANG  
>  **Prompt:** WILD CARD (cuddling)/grief/abandonment issues/assault  
>  **Medium:** Fic  
>  **Wordcount:** 4391  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Warnings:** Physical assault/implied abuse  
>  **Summary:** He doesn't like to think about being alone.  
>  **AN:** This was actually written last month for hc_bingo's Amnesty February Challenge, and I just never got to uploading it. I wanted this to be a pairing fic, or more focused on romance, but it didn't feel right, and the characters don't exactly feel right either, but this was the best I was going to get. Also, another experiment with present-tense.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~And yes, I know this is probably the weirdest times to upload a fic.~~

It’s all he’s good at. He runs away from his problems, and he doesn’t like that part of himself, but it’s all he knows.

He ignores his phone going off on the nightstand to wallow in self-pity. He ignores it because it has to be business—he has no friends to call him. He ignores the way his head hurts—and his heart doesn’t—as he stares at the ceiling above him.

They always hurt him one way or another, but this one is the worst.

She’s already gone, her things thrown out and her forcibly removed from his house, but he can still feel her presence. He can hear her scathing remarks as she watches him work, her scoffing at his dreams, and he feels her nails digging into his flesh, scratching deep enough to draw blood from his arm, his neck.

He remembers feeling scared—genuinely scared—as she approached him, eyes blazing with fury, as she calmly told him that she’s seen him with another girl. He remembers feeling small as she berates him for choosing to spend time with his friends instead of her, teeth bared as she accuses him of cheating on her.

He ignores the hurt when he realizes that she was cheating on him when she accused him of cheating on her.

Choosing her over his friends is the worst mistake he’s made in this relationship. He sometimes wonders about them—if they’re laughing at him behind his back for choosing someone like her—but it hurts a bit too much, so he pretends to forget about them.

It’s easier being alone when he doesn’t think about how lonely it is.

He tells himself it’s easier to be alone than it is to be with people because alone, he won’t get hurt again, he won’t fall for someone who’ll hurt him. But it’s hard. He likes people, likes being with people who give him attention, but it just hurts more when it fails.

(He can hear his friend’s voice, telling him that throwing himself at the first person to give him love is stupid, that it’ll be for nothing, that it won’t help him cope, but he squashes the voice ruthlessly because it may not help, but it feels better than being by himself.)

Maybe, just maybe, he needs to go out to be with people—just enough that he’ll survive the night. But he knows that it won’t be enough, that he’ll fall for the next woman who greets him, who gives him a bit of the love he craves. He doesn’t think he can handle that yet, not when the wounds are still bleeding.

He’ll stay home tonight—alone and broken—wanting for a warm body in his bed to hold him as he blatantly ignores his own issues.

(And maybe that’s why he was so willing to ignore his friends for her—they call him out when he tries to cope with his issues in what they deem an unhealthy way, and it’s funny coming from them, when he doesn’t want to do anything but forget.)

But he thinks he’ll be able to get out of bed and function tomorrow, ignoring the people who gawk and stare and whisper behind his back. He’ll hold his head high, exuding confidence he doesn’t feel, because that’s what he knows how to do.

His friends have taught him that.

And then he hears frantic knocking on the door. He thinks he should ignore it—ignore _her_ —but something in him that feels too much like loneliness craves the companionship and against his better judgment, he opens it.

He sees Daesung first—he’s the one he’ll go to first when he has a problem, when they were younger and more naïve. He sees his friend (they’re still his friends, they’re still _here_ when he’s been an idiot) reaching out for a hug before stopping himself, eye unsure.

Both Seunghyun and Youngbae are behind him, watching cautiously, uncertain of their place in his life—and he doesn’t blame them.

But he’s most intrigued by Jiyong, who lingers in the back. He’s surprised he came—not after he yelled at him for demonizing his (ex) girlfriend.

It takes him a moment, but he invites them in—it’s the least he can do after they bothered to come check up on him. He hates how tense and awkward the air feels, like one wrong move can shatter this friendship they have.

And he hates himself more for being the cause of it.

“Seungri,” Daesung starts tentatively. He’s not like this—none of them are like this—and it just hurts him a bit more when he realizes that his friend doesn’t know how to start because he doesn’t know him as he is.

But then Daesung stops, like he’s unsure how to continue. He’s always been the more sensitive, the kinder, and he thinks that maybe he’ll keep Daesung’s words in mind next time he does something stupid like this.

“We’re worried about you,” Jiyong says, cutting the tense atmosphere. He still talks as if he’s their leader—just like when they were younger.

It’s comforting, and he sees them all relaxing just a bit under Jiyong’s care. It’s familiar, it’s soothing, it hasn’t changed even though it feels like everything else has.

His friends, under the words of Jiyong, stop being so uncertain of everything and start fussing over him, making sure that he’s physically okay. He sees Youngbae grit his teeth, eyes hard as stone, as he sees her scratches, sees the drying blood. Daesung quickly leaves to get the first-aid kit he keeps in his bathroom, unable to stand the sight of blood.

He hisses when Youngbae disinfects the wound, cleaning off the already dried blood on his skin. He hears Daesung and Youngbae arguing about whether they should cover it, but Youngbae wins, and the wound doesn’t get dressed with gauze.

Jiyong and Seunghyun hang back until Youngbae and Daesung are satisfied with their care. They both examine his wounds, Jiyong a bit more critically than Seunghyun, and then Jiyong tells him to strip.

He flushes slightly under the instructions, but he willingly removes his shirt so they can see that she’s never ripped open his back. Jiyong seems pleased that he’s not hurt there—and he hopes Jiyong won’t ask him to take off his pants. There are many things he’s willing to do for his friends, but being naked in front of them while they’re fully dressed is not one of them.

“Where is she,” Seunghyun asks. He’s the most awkward in this situation, of comforting when he doesn’t like physical contact. But getting revenge—he’s good at that.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. Or as honestly as he’s willing. He thinks he knows where she’s hiding—at her other lover’s house—but he doesn’t know enough to give an address, not that he’s willing to.

He notices Jiyong staring at him, unconvinced, but the other three don’t question him about her any longer, and Jiyong has no choice but to leave that subject alone. He wants to breathe a sigh of relief, but he knows that Jiyong will push later when he feels more comfortable.

They move onto lighter subjects, like what they’ve been up to since he’s cut contact with them, and he doesn’t realize that his phone has stopped ringing a few minutes before they arrived. He laughs at stories they share, of their work-life and their personal life, and he hugs Youngbae when he hears that his friend wants to propose to his girlfriend.

It feels natural, like he’s only seen them yesterday instead of two months ago, and he’s thankful for his friends. He laughs with them when they mention Jiyong’s latest project—the one that has him locked up in his house for days before someone will drag him out (and he ignores that bit of guilt that tells him he’s been slacking off.)

Daesung is the person that tells him the truth—why they’re there. He tells him that they heard from an anonymous source (her Twitter account, if he knows her as well as he thinks he does) that he’s broken it off with her, and they are worried about how he’s doing.

He tells them that he’s okay, that he’ll get over it—and he will, but just not now. He’s happier than he’s been for months with all of them there, and he doesn’t know how to tell them that.

He doesn’t want to admit that he’s been unhappy for longer than they know, but he also wants them to know that he’s grateful for them.

Seunghyun teases him for being _easy_ , and he rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

Daesung responds for him, telling Seunghyun that no one is as easy as Jiyong, and he sees their fearless leader cover his face, either hiding a smile or hiding in embarrassment. He’s not sure.

With Jiyong, he’s never sure of anything.

He pushes those type of thoughts out of his mind. It’s too dangerous to think like that. It leads to other thoughts he doesn’t need, not when he’s just gotten his friends back in his life.

Youngbae interjects with words of wisdom (or sass—he never really knows), and he laughs when Youngbae manages to stop Daesung and Seunghyun from fighting by teasing them both.

And then he feels Jiyong plop himself down next to him. He feels the way Jiyong leans in at first, testing the water. But he’s distracted by Daesung and Seunghyun and Youngbae, and he doesn’t tell him to move.

Jiyong is too touchy, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he considers trying to pull away, but he won’t. He misses this too much to move, but he will eventually start up their game of cat-and-mouse again, pulling away when Jiyong is so close to having him.

But Jiyong is the one who stays the longest.

He doesn’t appear to be getting ready to leave even as Daesung, Seunghyun, and Youngbae start to leave, laughing as they let themselves out. He watches the door even when they’re too far away to be seen.

He wonders if Jiyong wants to yell at him as he usually does when he does something stupid, but he’s surprised when Jiyong suddenly wraps himself around him. He nearly falls over, but he manages to stop himself from falling into Jiyong.

Jiyong laughs at him, bright and unhindered, and he thinks to himself that he’s lucky to have him as a friend. He laughs too, because he can’t do anything else, and he plans on asking him so much, but then Jiyong beats him to it (just like everything else.)

“Do you still speak to her,” Jiyong asks.

He pushes himself up to look directly at Jiyong. It’s too deep a subject for so late in the night, but he’s not surprised that he wants to ask that.

But he knows immediately who Jiyong is talking about—he hasn’t thought about her in a while, but he now does—and he shakes his head. He thinks he should talk to her, but he doesn’t want to bother her. They broke off their relationship, both in a bad place and the relationship being full of bad memories (but also good memories), and he doesn’t want to burden her.

“You should,” Jiyong says. “It might do you good.”

And he wonders about that. Nothing in him wants to contact her. He may have loved her long ago, but he doesn’t hold those feelings anymore. But he doesn’t tell Jiyong that. He doesn’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know.

“I don’t know how to,” he says instead. It’s vague enough that it may convince Jiyong to leave the subject alone, but he knows his friend well enough to know that it’ll just start another fight.

Jiyong doesn’t look happy—he can see it in the way his brows furrow—but he doesn’t push the subject. Instead, he turns it to his last girlfriend, the one who caused a huge mess. “Where’s your ex?”

He frowns. “I don’t know.”

“Really,” Jiyong asks, voice full of skepticism. Out of his four closest friends, Jiyong is the one who knows him best, the one that’s first to call him out on his bullshit.

“I don’t know where she lives,” he repeats. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the complete truth.

“She’s with another guy,” Jiyong says.

He hates that about him. He’s too observant at times, and it scares him, but he can also be obtuse about other things.

“Fuck her.”

And he laughs, broken and mirthless. “That’s what got me here.”

Jiyong stares at him, and he feels small and insignificant, just like when he first started hanging around Daesung, who introduced him to the other three. He feels like that little kid who wants to impress Jiyong, who wants to be liked by him.

“You’re stupid.”

He wants to protest out of habit, but he agrees with Jiyong. He thinks he’s stupid for saying he fell in love with her, he thinks he’s stupid for trying to bury his feelings with someone new, but he doesn’t say that either.

“You don’t know what you want,” Jiyong continues, way too astute but also blind. He wonders if Jiyong is referencing something other than his string of bad relationships, but he doesn’t think it’s so.

“I just want a cute girl with long hair,” he retorts. It’s been his answer when people asked him what his ideal girl is for so long that it comes like second nature. He doesn’t need to think about it, which works because if he thinks about his words, he’ll stumble.

“Really,” Jiyong asks, his voice full of disbelief.

“Really!” He wants a cute girl—he wants to stop thinking about the possibility of Jiyong and love—and he wants a family. If he’s honest with himself—and he’s not—he wants a cute girl to distract himself from Jiyong.

Jiyong still looks doubtful, but he drops the subject, mostly. He sees the look his friend gives him occasionally as he settles into his home—and he wants to ask Jiyong to leave, but he also wants him to stay.

“Are you staying the night,” he eventually asks. He’ll leave the choice up to Jiyong.

Jiyong raises a brow like he doesn’t believe he’s asking, but he nods.

It’s been too long since he’s had him over. Despite that small hiccup caused by his stupidity, they easily fall back into a routine, him taking control of the bathroom while Jiyong sprawls out to choose a movie or drama to watch while he waits his turn for the bathroom.

He returns to see that Jiyong has chosen a drama they’ve watched before, and it allows him to sort through his thoughts as Jiyong showers. It’s hard to ignore that he knows he chooses bad women to be with, but he doesn’t want to think about why.

Jiyong easily finds his way into his bed, wrapping an arm around him, and he wonders if this is too intimate after just getting out of a bad relationship, but he likes the comfort of a warm body too much to chase him out.

“You’re tense,” Jiyong observes absently. If he knows Jiyong as well as he thinks he does, Jiyong will push for answers—later. When they’re not about to fall asleep.

“I’m not,” he mutters. He knows he’s lying, and he knows Jiyong knows he’s lying, but he tries to calm himself down, taking deep breaths. If he pretends it’s the truth, that this is normal and he’s not trying to prevent himself from doing something stupid, maybe it’ll become the truth.

He feels Jiyong slip into slumber, feels his breath even out as it fans across his shoulder, and he closes his eyes to try and sleep. It’s an uneasy sleep, filled with undisclosed fears and hidden desires, and he wakes up to see Jiyong is already gone.

There’s noise from the kitchen, so he doesn’t worry too much, and he considers going to see Jiyong, but he decides that he needs to freshen up before he sees his friend. It’s stupid because Jiyong’s seen him at his worse, but he wants to make a good impression.

Something’s changed during the night—maybe it’s because of his vulnerability or maybe it’s because Jiyong now holds him tighter than ever—and he wants to explore that.

But he also doesn’t want to change anything—doesn’t want to be left alone if he’s wrong about whatever is between them. Having Jiyong as a friend is better than having nothing at all.

He comes out to see that his kitchen is not burned down—and he’s thankful for that—and breakfast on the table. He thinks that it’s a bit simple for his friend, but he thanks Jiyong and digs in.

It’s a welcomed distraction from everything—from thoughts and feelings Jiyong digs up by speaking about things he doesn’t want to think about—and he thinks about how he’ll sidestep Jiyong’s inevitable questions.

He doesn’t want to talk about his reaction last night, he doesn’t want to lie—and dig himself a deeper hole—and he doesn’t want to tell the truth.

“Seungri,” Jiyong says, somber.

He doesn’t like the way Jiyong stares at him, as if he sees everything that makes him Seungri, but he doesn’t flinch. “Jiyong,” he says cheekily, smile in place.

Jiyong half-heartedly glares at him, but he doesn’t scold him. “What’s wrong?”

And that’s the million-dollar question. He can answer that in many ways, say the vaguest thing like, “Everything,” but he knows that isn’t the answer Jiyong wants. He sees his friend’s brows furrow at that answer, annoyed.

“Seungri,” he repeats, frowning this time. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies. He reasons, to himself, that if Jiyong doesn’t accept his _everything_ , then he’ll accept _nothing_.

Jiyong doesn’t look remotely amused.

He knows how protective Jiyong can be of him—remembers the time that he nearly murdered Youngbae for making him cry—and he doesn’t know how to get out of his concern. Even after all these years, Seungri still allows himself to be smothered by Jiyong when he gets into that mood.

“I’m happier now that she’s gone,” he continues. He thinks—hopes—that’s enough to persuade Jiyong to leave this subject alone.

“I don’t doubt that,” Jiyong mutters.

And then he smiles softly, reaches up to touch his cheek gently. His mood is mercurial, slipping from one end to the other, and he still doesn’t understand how Jiyong’s moods occur. Sometimes, he’ll slip into a manic episode, isolating himself and working too hard on something.

Sometimes, he’ll become quiet, too quiet, as he broods over things that most people don’t ponder on too much. He remembers a phone call from Jiyong asking if he thinks the world is ending—at some early hour in the morning.

He thinks that it bothers him. The way his brain focuses on the wrong thing. He thinks Jiyong wants to think about his art, but he ends up thinking about existential crises that only distracts him from his work.

But sometimes he becomes so consumed by his work that he can’t think of anything but it. He’s usually the one that’s called to pull him out—he’s the only one who’s successfully managed to stop Jiyong from working himself to death.

“You’re cute,” Jiyong coos, breaking him from his thoughts.

He thinks it’s almost mocking—if it comes from anyone else, it’s mocking, but Jiyong is weird. He’s always weird, saying things like that seriously. It’s almost insulting, but he doesn’t take too much offense at this point. It’s just Jiyong.

But that doesn’t stop him from protesting. “I’m not cute,” he says almost petulantly. He’s manly, sexy, not cute.

Jiyong smiles at him indulgently, and he knows he’s only being humored.

“I’m not,” he insists.

“Of course not.”

He pouts again, but he also wants to laugh. It’s a stupid argument—one that is easy to have—and he likes how warm it makes him feel.

But he worries. He worries that one day, he’ll be left behind by Jiyong for his newest lover—not that Jiyong has ever left him for his lover of the month. He worries that Jiyong will not feel that same warmth and protectiveness over him and leave.

“You’re the cute one,” he says in a moment of courage.

And it’s worth it to see the surprised look on Jiyong’s face. He never says anything like, never tries to cross that line between playful flirting and _flirting_.

Jiyong then laughs and asks, “You think I’m cute?”

He pauses to think, teasing Jiyong just a bit more, before saying, “Cuter than me.” It’s such a non-answer that he can see Jiyong frowning—adorably—because he’s managed to side-step Jiyong’s trap.

“But my Seungri is the cutest,” Jiyong says, abandoning his food and wrapping himself around him.

He thinks Jiyong doesn’t realize how weird it is. But he doesn’t say anything, just sighs and relaxes in his hold.

And then Jiyong pinches his cheek. He wants to pout, to remove Jiyong’s hand from his face, but he doesn’t. It’s a reminder that he’s not alone.

Instead, he turns slightly and tries to pinch Jiyong’s cheek in retaliation. His friend easily releases him, moving back to his seat to eat.

“Spoilsport,” he hears Jiyong say, amused and trying not to laugh.

And he laughs. It’s not anything remarkable, but it’s so Jiyong that he just feels amused by this whole situation.

“What’s funny,” Jiyong asks seriously, and he starts laughing even more.

Nothing is funny, not really, but it reminds him of when they were younger, when Jiyong wanted to know everything he thinks of. Maybe that hasn’t changed.

Jiyong gets frustrated when he won’t answer. He sees him sulking, and he can’t help but coo over him. It’s amusing, and he wants to keep doing things like this, but it’s also frightening. He doesn’t like to think about his feelings for Jiyong, even if it feels like that’s all he’s thinking about, but moments like these bring it front and center.

“Seungri,” Jiyong tries to say sternly, but it sounds more like a whine.

And he laughs even more. Because it’s so Jiyong to want to know everything but be kept out of the loop. He thinks about his friends—Daesung, Youngbae, and Seunghyun—who all don’t tell Jiyong secrets because he’s bad at keeping them.

The mood ends abruptly for him when he notices something flash in Jiyong’s eyes, something small but he’s skilled at reading his friend. He wants to know why his friend is still angry, but he doesn’t want to broach the subject.

But Jiyong keeps complaining about how he won’t tell him anything. He complains that no one tells him anything—that he has to learn about everything through eavesdropping.

And he says, “Maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

It takes Jiyong a moment, but then he starts whining about how he’s picked on by everyone—as if he doesn’t tease them all the most.

“You tell everyone our secrets,” he points out.

“But you tell me them because you want everyone to know.”

He sighs softly at that. It’s true that they use Jiyong to tell people news—he’s ridiculously fast when he wants to be—but that doesn’t mean that they want everything they tell him to be told to everyone else. But he doesn’t say that.

“You’re thinking too much.”

And there is Jiyong’s perceptiveness. He doesn’t miss it one bit. But he feels like he’s missing something important, something that explains the madness that’s happening.

“I’m not,” he says impulsively.

Jiyong looks at him disbelievingly, and it’s insulting. He knows his mind, even if everyone else thinks otherwise.

At least, he tries to tell himself that.

“Sure,” Jiyong says.

They fall into a silence, Jiyong looking bothered by something.

He finally says what he wants—even the night before. “Are you happy?”

And he pauses. He doesn’t know how to respond to Jiyong. He thinks he isn’t happy, not living happily-ever-after, but he’s not unhappy. “I think so.”

It’s too early for deep talk, but Jiyong likes to have deep conversations at the worst time. He may still hold Jiyong waking him at an ungodly hour to talk about the world ending over his head.

“Why?”

He wonders if Jiyong sees something that he doesn’t—knows the answer even when he doesn’t.

“I have my friends,” he says, thinking about why he isn’t unhappy. “I am successful with my business,” he continues.

“But you’re lonely.”

He doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t need to. Jiyong knows, likes to mention her like last night, and he wonders if Jiyong likes her.

“Maybe she’d…” Jiyong trails off, but he knows what he wants to say.

He doesn’t think she’ll want him back. He hopes she doesn’t want him back. But there’s something in Jiyong’s tone that makes him question his assumption. He doesn’t sound happy mentioning her, so he may be wrong about Jiyong liking her.

Maybe, just maybe, Jiyong feels the same thing he does. He’ll try to open up to Jiyong, to let him see that he’s interested. And maybe it’ll lead to something more.

“I think she’s happier without me,” he says to Jiyong.

But he sometimes does wonder about her, if she’s happy with another man, if she really got over everything he’s done to her, but he also wonders if he’d have been happy with her had they managed to be together even through the darkest storm.

He thinks it’s a good thing, in the end, that they ended their relationship.

He feels bad for stringing her along—but he genuinely loved her—when he knows, that if it comes down to it, he’ll choose Jiyong over her.

Jiyong thinks he knows his first love—that he’s lost her to his own desire for success—but he may, one day, tell Jiyong that he’s his first love. When he feels brave enough to. But now he thinks he has a chance with Jiyong, and he’ll let this, whatever it is, develop at its own pace.


End file.
